


Flying with Dragons

by still_lycoris



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Isolation, Rule 63, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Balinor is the last of her kind. She never expects to get pregnant. Never expects to have to raise the child alone - or what the child might turn out to be ...
Relationships: Balinor/Hunith (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: Rule 63 Exchange 2020





	Flying with Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jungle_ride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/gifts).



Balinor’s first memory is flying on dragonback with her mother.

It is like all first memories, blurry yet clear at the same time. She has no idea why she was there – was it her first flight? Was it just that her mother needed to go somewhere and could not leave her child behind? – but she remembers the hot scales under her hands, the wind in hair, the swoop of amazement that always came from being far above the world with a creature of untamed fire and wild power beneath you. The most wonderful feeling in the world and one she would experience again throughout her childhood, the feeling that every Dragonlord knew and loved.

None of them ever imagined that it could be taken away.

But nothing, not even good things, lasts forever.

*

She supposes she should have known better than to trust Uther Pendragon.

He is a good king but an cruel man. Her mother always told her the two things would often coincide and she was right. Not that it saved her in the end. Not that it saved any of Balinor’s family, or friends. Uther’s Purge has been sharp, savage and through. Magic is hiding away and Balinor is trying to hide with it. She only leaves this hiding because she thinks she might be able to make a difference. Might be able to make the losses stop if she goes along with Uther’s idea, speaks to him, reasons with him. She has talked with _dragons_. How hard can it be to talk to a _man?_

Uther listens. Then he has her lock the last Dragon up beneath Camelot and orders her immediate execution when it is done. Balinor only escapes thanks to a man named Gaius who has watched over her since she came to Camelot.

“Go to Hunith in Ealdor. He is a good man. He will hide you.”

She goes.

She has nowhere and nothing else now after all.

*

Hunith is one of the kindest people that Balinor has ever known. He shelters her without question, even before she gives him Gaius’s name. He makes a little division in his hut for her so she has privacy, even though the hut is tiny and space is precious. He is kind and chivalrous and makes up a good reason for her to be there in the village to quiet suspicious tongues. He sits with her when she has nightmares about the deaths of her people and is gentle with her in a way that she desperately needs. He does not judge. Balinor feels safe with him in a way that she hasn’t for a long time, safe enough to let the kindness and affection grow into something else, something far more.

It’s a mistake.

Uther has not forgotten.

*

She only learns she is pregnant when she is well away from Ealdor.

Perhaps she should have seen the signs before, been more careful. But her courses have been unpredictable for a long time and she had simply thought it was that. Fear and hate can wreck havoc with a woman’s body. But not enough havoc. Not this time.

She wants to scream at the empty sky, curse the world that has brought her to this. How can she raise a child here, alone? How can she bring a life into dreadful world? She was raised in a family, a family _within_ a family, Dragonlords together. Now she’s the only one, living in a cave, a thousand miles from home and a thousand deaths from family. How can she have a baby, look after it, love it? How can she be enough?

She considers simply ending it. For both of them. There are herbs, herbs she has already gathered. One tincture made with them and she could go and join her ancestors and all of this would be over.

And yet. Yet she is the last Dragonlord and the child might well be one too, although she can’t be sure of that. Dragonlords don’t always breed true, even when both parents have the power. Nobody has ever known why. It is just the way that it is. The baby might have magic but not the skill, the baby might be magicless and yet have the Dragonlord power or it might just be a normal child.

Hunith’s child.

She’ll have the baby. If it becomes unbearable, she can return it to Hunith. He will raise it, probably with joy. And she can do whatever she must.

*

She gives birth alone in the new cave she’s found. This one is a new cave, a better one. Larger with water running through, easier to store things, to live in with a second mouth to feed – assuming they both survive the birth. There’s no guarantee of that. Balinor knows healing magic but she is not a healer and she never helped anybody give birth before. She can only hope that she’s read enough and has power enough and that the birth is easy.

It is not easy. But nor is it a disaster. Hours after the process begun, she gives that final push and there is a baby lying there on the rug, screeching furiously at being forced into the world. Balinor feels the flood of adoration that she feared would not come. Hers, her child. A little boy. Balinor considers naming him for his father but decides not to risk it. If they are ever caught, there must be nothing that links them to Hunith and Ealdor. The child shall have his own name.

She takes him outside the cave for a blessing, as is only appropriate. There is a bird, a merlin, perched on a low branch in one of the trees, leaning over watching for prey. It looks at her as she steps out, head cocked, eyes bright. It gives a soft cry and somewhere close by, its mate cries back.

Balinor is not sure she believes in signs, not any more. But if there’s the remotest chance that it could be one, she thinks she should go with it. She holds the boy up to the sky, asks for the blessings of the gods and names him Merlin.

*

It is both harder and easier with a baby. Harder because people judged her before and they judge her more harshly now. An angry hermit is one thing, an angry hermit with a bastard babe is another. And when the days come when she just wants to lie and do nothing, she can’t. Merlin needs feeding, washing, care. He needs to be held and sang to and be told stories, just as Balinor’s own mother did for her. She can’t deny him. He has been denied enough simply by being born her child.

But easier because some are more inclined to want to help a woman with a baby. They offer her things unasked for because there is a little one strapped to her back and even if they distrust her, they cannot distrust him. And there are fewer days when she wants to lie and do nothing now Merlin is here because he gives her purpose. His eyes are large, blue and curious even at this young age. He stares at her with fascination and she stares back, wondering what he makes of her, of the world. He lies on his stomach and plays with rocks, clicking them together. He tangles her hair between his fingers and pulls but he doesn’t get have the grip or strength to be painful. Every day he is a little different and Balinor is fascinated to watch him grow.

She feels guilty sometimes, denying Hunith this. But Hunith’s world is in Ealdor, with people, not living in a cave, always fearing that one day, Uther Pendragon might come. Hunith will find a woman, marry her, have children. It will not necessarily sate the pain of losing what they shared but Balinor knows that it will be enough.

She will love Merlin enough for the both of them.

*

Merlin first shows signs of magic when he is barely a year old.

It is too soon. Balinor knows that. Magic, even in strong individuals, does not show itself until the child can talk, at least. Usually, it only really emerges when the child is three or four and even then, it is usually a clumsy thing, shown only by signs of little glimmers in the dark or an object moving a little. But Merlin reaches out his chubby arms to the toy that she has put out of reach and his little eyes shine a bright gold as it falls down to him. He laughs, apparently delighted with himself and Balinor stares and wonders what she has brought into the world.

But Merlin looks at her and smiles and he looks so normal that she pushes the thought away. Perhaps it is an aberration. Just a little burst of power that happened to come more strongly than most would, that’s all. At least she knows Merlin has magic now. She knows what she’s up against.

*

It is not an aberration.

Merlin is powerful. More powerful than Balinor has seen before. Magic shines out of him and does not need to be taught. He moves objects. He makes lights in the dark; shimmering orbs that cast their cave in a smokeless light. He does it instinctively, using magic to suit his childish needs and Balinor isn’t sure what to do about it. He is too young to be taught - and besides, teaching him will fetter him and she is curious. So she puts her own spells on the cave, spells that should blind anybody who is not skilled, scolds Merlin when he does things that are dangerous or she has told him not to do and simply watches him unfold.

*

The only time she tells him not to use magic is when they go to the villages.

Balinor hates going. She only goes for things she cannot grow or hunt herself. But as Merlin gets older, it becomes clear that he loves it – and people love him. Perhaps it’s pity because his mother is a bitter hermit, perhaps it’s just because he’s sweet. She hopes it’s the second. He runs to people, smiles at them, chatters away with childish happiness. The other children play with him quite happily. Some adults even give him treats.

Balinor doesn’t trust them. She wants to. But she remembers her people. Their deaths. Uther’s Purge would not have been as successful if other people had not acted too. That the ones that you believe you can rely on will not always be there for you when you need them. The ones that you think you can reason with will betray you. There might be some good people out there but you cannot be sure you have found them. Better to hold back.

But Merlin is a child and she can protect him. So she lets him play but she always warns him over and over that if he uses his magic, she’ll take it away from him. She couldn’t, of course. But he is too young to know that and obeys her. As he grows older, she tells him that if he is seen using magic, people will take him away from her and that works too.

Balinor isn’t even sure that it is a lie.

*

He grows. He is thin and lanky and excited about everything that their small world has to offer. He is a terrible hunter but good at growing things. He loves their cave and their woods and he loves her with a fierce devotion that Balinor cannot help but cherish. She wonders what it would have been like if she had been alone and shudders at the thought of it. She is glad to have him. He keeps the darkness at bay.

His magic grows too. She teaches him as best she can but she can already see that he outstrips her in almost every way. It is impossible to know if he is a Dragonlord without a dragon to see but his magic is more than she has ever seen in anybody. Balinor knows that if she let him, Merlin could do things that would far be far beyond the skill of anyone else. Merlin is different. Merlin does not need spells or to conserve his energy. She suggests things and he does them, then beams at her proudly.

It is wonderful. It is frightening.

Balinor wonders what her people would have made of such a prodigy. She pushes the thought away. She does not know, cannot know and there is no point in thinking of them. This is life now, her and Merlin, together. If they are careful, they will be safe. There is no point considering another life.

*

But it does not last.

Merlin adores her but he is still growing. He begins to chafe at what he perceives as needless worry, at demands that he no longer quite sees why he should obey. He wants to speak more to the people in the villages. He wants to travel. He wants to _be._ And he cannot understand, even when Balinor tells him over and over that out there, the world is dangerous and bleak and filled with betrayal. He has not seen it. He does not understand.

“Nobody is coming for us here!” he shouts at her one day as their argument becomes a fight. “Nobody ever has!”

“You think that means they never _will?_ ” she shouts back. “You think that means we’re safe? We’re safe because I have kept us safe, Merlin! Because of everything I have done!”

“Or we’re safe because we were always safe!” he flashes back. “And you’re just keeping us away from having lives, from having people, from having friends!”

“I had all those things and they were taken from me!” she snarls. “You don’t know, you don’t understand, you’re just a child!”

“I’m not just a child!” he screams and as he does, his magic billows. Wind flares around them, shaking the trees, lifting the water in the stream, tearing at the ground. She steps back without meaning to and Merlin turns white.

“No, I ... I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ... ”

He runs from her then, a panicked stumble into the forest. Balinor sits down on one of the rocks and tries to breathe. She does not think she was in danger, Merlin knows better than that. But it was unexpected and she senses there is something else beneath the surface, something she does not understand that made him react so.

Merlin returns before dark just as she has always asked him to in the past when he has gone into the forest. He hangs his head, doesn’t look at her. Balinor gives him his supper and waits, knowing silence is more likely to yield a revelation than asking him what it is that has started eating at his soul.

“Is it because of me?” he says suddenly after playing with his food for a long time.

“Is what because of you?”

“Because of ... what I am. You always tell me to hide it when we’re with other people ... is it because I’m cursed? Is that why you hide me away from everybody? Because I might hurt somebody, because I’m too strong?”

She stares at him, horrified. She had never expected him to think that. To believe that it is _him_ who is being hidden and not _them_.

“Merlin, you know we’re here because of Uther Pendragon, because it’s not safe! Because he’d try to kill us both even without your magic!”

He doesn’t believe her. Not entirely. He smiles but it’s empty. Balinor grabs his hand.

“You are _not_ cursed!”

But even as she says it, she knows that it will take more than words to convince Merlin of that now. He knows he is different, she could never conceal that from him. He knows she is afraid, even though they are not in the borders of Camelot and he has decided that it is his fault in the way children do when they see their parents afraid and cannot understand the reasons. It will have been growing unspoken for years and now it is there. And how can Balinor comfort him when she does not know why he is what he is? When she has said herself that his power is unlike anything she has ever seen. Why _should_ Merlin believe her when they have been hiding all his life? When she has told him never to trust anybody, even the people who seem friendly? Never to let anyone besides her even glimpse his talents?

As she looks at him, trying to pretend that everything is fine but with dark, unhappy eyes, she knows that she has to find out the truth. That she has hidden for too long to protect herself.

She has to protect him.

*

The Valley of Fallen Kings is far closer to Camelot than Balinor wants to be but she also knows that it is the only way.

Merlin had not wanted her to go without him.

“I won’t be long. You’ll be fine,” she’d said but he’d stared at her miserably, obviously uncertain. Now she knows about it, she can see his fear clinging to him, almost physical. How long has he thought that he is a monster? How long has she failed to notice? How long has she let her own fear blind her to the needs of her child?

Taliesin is waiting. He smiles at her quite gently but with no surprise. Well, of course there is no surprise. Taliesin has known she was coming long before she has.

“You wish to look in the Crystal Cave?”

“No,” she says. It is not just a petty riposte. She means it. The future is always best unknown. The moment it becomes known, it becomes almost inevitable, everything swirling towards that glimpse to make it fact, even when the person tries to act against it. She knows that by seeing this, she runs the risk of solidifying something she will not like. “But I need to. For my son.”

“Emrys,” Taliesin says.

“His name is Merlin.”

“No,” he says gently. “His name is Emrys.”

And Balinor knows she is right to have come, despite her misgivings.

Taliesin takes her inside. The crystals whisper as she sits and then spring to life as she focuses. 

Balinor is not a seer but the crystals can be used by any with magic. The images appear meaningless – a floor covered with straw, a knife moving through the air as though it has been thrown, hands slowly applauding something – but then begin to steady. She sees Merlin, smiling his wonderful smile, looking at someone she cannot see. She sees a blond youth, perhaps a year or so older than Merlin, holding what seems to be a tiny yellow flower out towards a shadowed figure, his face pleading. She sees Gaius, so much older, still in Camelot and he is holding out a book to someone – to Merlin.

She sees Merlin staring up at the walls of Camelot.

She sees the blond youth again, standing next to Uther Pendragon, a golden circlet on his forehead 

She sees Merlin at his side. At the side of Prince Arthur of Camelot.

“ _No!_ ”

She jerks and the crystal images fade to translucent veils. She turns to Taliesin, filled with rage.

“Send my son, my child to _Camelot?_ To be close to that _monster?_ ”

Taliesin shrugs his shoulders gently.

“I cannot tell you what to do. You have seen what you have seen. You may decide whether or not to act on that. It is your choice.”

She wants to scream at him. She wants to rage. But she has learned to keep all her rage inside her heart and so instead, she leaves, the images playing over and over in her head like some sort of horrible nightmare.

Merlin in _Camelot?_ How can that be his destiny? How can her son, her child, be on the earth for that place? It cannot be and yet it so clearly is. Balinor has seen it and visions such as that are almost inevitable. And she looked, she asked for Merlin’s purpose, his reason.

Merlin is overjoyed to see her when she returns, jumping at her and flinging his arms around her. He does not ask if she learned anything and she knows it’s because he’s afraid of the answer. She feels guilty for not offering immediate reassurance but she needs to process it.

Because if Merlin asks her now, she knows that she will lie and she does not think she could forgive herself for that.

*

It plays in her mind for days. She studies it, stares at it, tries to cope with it without frightening Merlin.

She does not want to send him away.

She does not _have_ to send him away.

She _could_ keep him. Merlin trusts her. Believes her. If she tells him that he must stay, he will. Even if it will break his heart, even if it make him believe he is cursed, even if it will condemn him to a life in a cave with nobody, he would stay with her until the end, if she lies to him. Even if she only asks him to. He is loyal, she has seen that in him She isn’t sure if that’s something she has raised in him or something that he has developed on his own but it is there. Merlin would not go if she did not want him to go.

But if she does that, if she lies or deceives or even tells the truth but asks him not to go, what then? What would she be if she refused to let him go out into the world? A world that is apparently waiting for him in some way, a world that wants him just as much as he wants it? What would her ancestors think of that? Her people who flew with dragons as though there was nothing to fear? How would they judge her terror now?

She must be better than she has been.

She must let him go.

*

Merlin is confused when she tells him.

“You ... want me to leave?”

“No. Never. But I think you have to.”

She doesn’t tell him about what she saw. It isn’t fair. If it’s destiny, it will fall into place. If it’s not, perhaps Merlin will avoid it. Instead, she lies with a sprinkling of truth.

“You’re so isolated here, Merlin. It isn’t right. I can’t keep you from the world, however much I want to. You’re growing up. And much as I hate it, Camelot is the only place where you might be able to find a place in the world.”

“How can Camelot be my place?” Merlin asks. “You’ve told me all about it. Everything I am is against the law there. I’ll have to hide everything! I’ll have to hide _you_.”

He looks so angry at the idea of it. Balinor strokes his hair gently.

“You are strong, Merlin. Strong and brave and blessed. I know you’ll do what you have to do and I know that you’ll find somewhere better than this place. And we will see each other again and you will be a man that I will be proud of.”

“But you’ll be alone.”

“Perhaps that’s the way it is meant to be.”

Merlin stares at her for a moment. He looks unhappy but there’s excitement there too at the back of it, she can see it. He longs for journey, for adventure, for people. He longs to see the world that she’s kept him from. He longs to go to Camelot, despite the danger. He longs to see the visions she’s had made flesh even though he does not know they exist.

She can only pray that it will be what he wants, what he dreams of. That he will survive it. That his destiny will not be a curse and that she has prepared him enough for the way life can twist.

The thought makes her smile suddenly. Her own mother said that to her, a lifetime ago. Balinor remembers laughing, utterly confident in herself, knowing she could take the world on and that everything would be fine.

She feels it ought to be a depressing thought and yet there is something strangely comforting in it. Knowing that although Merlin might be different, he might be unusual, he might have a destiny that’s more than anything she could have imagined – but he is still her son. He is still just another child venturing into a world that could be cruel or kind and most often both together when you least expected it.

For the first time in a long time, Balinor lets herself hope. Merlin shall go. He shall go to Camelot and Gaius will protect him. Perhaps he will make friends or enemies and everything in between. Perhaps he will become close to Arthur Pendragon, perhaps he won’t. Perhaps he will change the world that she has left behind.

Whichever it is, she will let Merlin find out. And once more a child of a Dragonlord will fly with dragons.


End file.
